


lost in the words

by softdante



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flirting, M/M, is it still considered flirting if theyre not really aware theyre flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 05:46:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17339672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softdante/pseuds/softdante
Summary: Simon, in his sleep deprived state, says some things he probably shouldn't.Or: "Maybe," Baz murmurs over his shoulder when the class ends and everyone starts leaving. Simon is so startled, he pushes his chair and desk two feet forward. "You should spend less time questioning my love life at night and more time sleeping."





	lost in the words

**Author's Note:**

> hello <3 i wrote this last year and spent maybe 10 minutes editing it while mainly focused on my bowl of cereal so EXCUSE me if it's pure bullshit!!!!

Sleeping hasn't been easy lately. Simon never understood what people meant when they said they were too caught up to go to bed. Overthinking wasn't an unfamiliar concept to him, but usually as soon as his head hit the pillow, he started snoring. Now, though, he lies in the dark, tossing and turning and groaning and begging his mind to shut the fuck up so he doesn't show up to class looking like a walking corpse.

His grades are going down the drain, Penelope's contemplating going to America as soon as they finish school, he has no idea what  _he's_  expected to do once school ends, everyone's trying to act like his and Agatha's breakup hasn't changed a thing, but it's obvious it did.

"Dear fucking God, Snow," Baz snarls from his bed. "I don't know what's going on over there, but keep it the fuck down."

Simon rolls his eyes. He'd feel guilty about keeping him up if he wasn't such an ass, perhaps. "What's the magic word?" he says humorlessly.

"What? Now you want me to spell you quiet?" Baz's voice comes out muffled, strangled by the multiple pillows he keeps beside him.

Simon huffs, not bothering with a reply. The last thing he wants right now is a conversation with Baz. It's their last year, and surprisingly, they haven't been actively trying to kill each other. They argue constantly and throw insults around whenever possible, but nothing physical...yet. Simon doesn't understand what's changed, but he's glad. He doesn't need a broken nose on top of his sleeping problems and deteriorating social and school life.

He doesn't sleep that night.

 

 

At breakfast, Penelope catches him staring daggers at Baz and rolls her eyes. "Stop."

"I'm not doing anything," he mutters just as Baz catches his eyes. He lifts a brow and the right corner of his lips tilts upwards. It makes Simon even more irritated. He scoffs and turns away. "He's such a dick."

"What'd he do now? Is it why you look awful?" she asks casually before taking a sip of her tea. Agatha sits quietly across them. It's been this way ever since she told him she didn't think them dating was  _the best idea anymore_. They still sit together, but either she doesn't say a word, or she gives Penelope one word answers when she tries to include her in the conversation. Penelope's starting to get really annoyed at how awkward they're being.

"What? I don't look awful," Simon frowns and nudges the scone towards her. She melts the butter on top of it with her wand.

"You know what I mean. Did you sleep?" Penelope asks, her brows furrowing. Simon sees Agatha take interest in the conversation from the corner of his eye.

"No," he mumbles, fidgeting.

"What did Baz do, then?"

Simon turns to glance at him and finds him already looking his way. This time, though, he doesn't throw any smug gestures and instead looks away and pretends to listen to Niall. "He didn't do anything. I just couldn't sleep."

When they get up to go to class, Penelope rushes off and Agatha slows her pace so she can walk next to Simon. "Hey. Are you alright?" she asks quietly, not necessarily looking him in the eye.

He blinks at her a couple times, shocked that she's even talking to him. "I'm— yeah, I'm alright."

A hint of a smile tugs at her mouth. "Good. You know, just because we're not together doesn't mean I don't care about you."

He tries to nod, but she's already making her way to her next class.

 

 

He's been awake for so long he thinks he can feel his eyelids starting to cramp up. He sits up against the wall and pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Stop that," Baz complains, pushing himself up as well.

"Stop what?"

"That annoying sound."

"I'm breathing."

"Yes, that."

Simon would clench his fists and get annoyed like usual, but now he's glad for the distraction. "Do you have to whine about everything?" he rolls his eyes even though he knows Baz can't see him in the dark. Or maybe he can. Who knows how vampire vision works.

"When it comes to you, yes."

"You're a five year old."

"You put your feet on the seat next to you in Political Science when I walked into class the other day."

"And for good reason. I swear you never shut up during class."

Baz lets out a choked sound, like he can't believe what Simon is saying. "I was  _participating_. It's what you're  _supposed_ to do, you dolt."

"Yeah. Well, it's annoying."

"Of course, you'd think that. You hear three words not about yourself or food, and you start spiraling."

Simon throws his pillow at him, which really isn't a good idea since he only sleeps with the one, and Baz catches it with something close to a chuckle. Simon grumbles, "You're fucking irritating."

"Am I?"

" _Yes_ ," Simon insists. "It's probably why you've never had a girlfriend."

He grimaces for a second, wondering if that was too mean. He doesn't like going for the low blows. But Baz full on laughs this time, and the sound is so foreign, Simon finds himself inching forward. "Yeah," Baz breathes. " _That's_ why I've never had a girlfriend."

Simon frowns. He doesn't know what he means, but the whole thing really doesn't make sense. Baz has girls flirting with him left and right all the time, but he never takes interest in them.  _Unless it's_ my  _girlfriend,_ Simon grudgingly thinks. He wants to blame Baz for splitting him and Agatha up, but it would've happened either way. Sure, he'd been very against the breakup in the beginning, but the relationship only made both parties miserable, not including Penelope.

"I don't know what that means," he admits, mostly because he genuinely would like an explanation.

"That's a personal problem. And what do you know about relationships? You've been in one, and it was an absolute mess."

"You sound like Penelope."

"Merlin forbid."

"Doesn't it get sorta lonely?" Simon wonders out loud after a minute.

Baz tosses him back his pillow and lies back down. "I'm not gonna talk about this with you."

He begins to smile. "It's just a question."

"Goodnight, Snow."

That adds another thing for Simon to spend the night thinking about.

 

 

He starts snoozing in the middle of Greek because apparently, his body can just about fall asleep anywhere and anytime thats not his bed at night. The Minotaur wakes him up by pounding on his desk until Simon's head shoots up. Ignoring the giggles around him, he mumbles an apology and slides even lower into his seat. He can feel his cheeks turning incredibly red and quickly runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it and cover his face at the same time. He couldn't feel more embarrassed if he tried.

He continues tugging and pulling at his hair. He might be, and probably is, making it look even worse than it originally did, but he doesn't know what else to do with his hands.

After a couple minutes, everyone's already moved on from the incident and gone back to either paying attention or slipping notes to each other, but Simon can still feel someone's stare on him. He knows who it is, and he doesn't want to see the smug look on Baz's face.

He tries to keep his eyes on the board for as long as he can, but eventually he brings his chin up and tilts his head just slightly enough to meet Baz's eyes. He doesn't really look like he's gonna rub Simon's little nap in his face later, but Simon could be wrong. Not even a psychic could read Baz.

"Maybe," Baz murmurs over his shoulder when the class ends and everyone starts leaving. Simon is so startled, he pushes his chair and desk two feet forward. "You should spend less time questioning my love life at night and more time sleeping."

He walks away before Simon can say something lame like  _your nonexistent love life_ or  _maybe_ you  _should spend more time sleeping._ He's left grumbling under his breath and putting the tables he moved back in place. 

 

 

He falls asleep at 11pm and wakes up a few hours later, which is still bad, but it feels like winning the lottery. He would've slept for more, for  _days,_ probably, if he hadn't fallen off his bed. He lands with a grunt and stays perfectly still. He'll probably have a couple bruises by tomorrow morning. Wincing, he pushes himself up and touches a finger to the back of his neck, where the wooden foundation of his bed had hit him.

"Wow," Baz rasps out, his voice still rough from just being woken up. "Now you've  _really_ hit rock bottom."

Simon glares in the dark and stands up, moaning as he does. His neck and shoulders still feel stiff from sleeping on a desk earlier that day, and the blow to his back certainly isn't helping. "I'm fine," he says and sits on the corner of his bed. "Thanks for asking."

Baz stays quiet for a few seconds, and then says, "Why can't you sleep?"

"Do you care?" Simon huffs a laugh, then (unsuccessfully) tries not to whimper when the side of his neck starts to throb.

"Not really, but it's proving to be a real inconvenience."

Simon tries to go back to sleep, but it's a one time thing, so he slowly turns on his side, making sure not to put himself in anymore pain. He resorts to last night's methods for reasons unknown. "So."

Baz sighs. "What?"

"You've never kissed anyone?"

"None of your business."

"It's pretty fun."

"I didn't ask."

Simon sinks into his pillow, hoping Baz will understand him even if his words comes out unintelligible. "Not even, like, a date?"

"I get that you're sleep deprived and miserable, but please shut the fuck up."

His words don't faze Simon. "Have you ever flirted with anyone other than my girlfriend to piss me off? Like, because you like them?"

"I know it's hard to believe, but not everything is about you," Baz says, annoyed.

Simon contemplates his pervious words for a little, running his hands over the cold part of his sheets. "Why didn't you ask Agatha out?" he bursts out suddenly. The late hour must be affecting his brain because he knows he should shut up, but for some reason, he doesn't. "After we broke up, I mean. You've never been the biggest supporter of our relationship. Like, I think the only person who disliked us together more than you is Penelope."

Baz doesn't reply for a good while, and Simon thinks he must've fallen asleep, but then he quietly says, "Oh my God. You are genuinely the dumbest person I've ever met."

Simon's defenses fly up. "I'm not dumb. You're dumb."

"Good fucking night."

Frowning, Simon turns on his other side even though it doesn't make a difference. He couldn't see Baz even when he was looking in his direction. He doesn't understand why he got so frustrated all of a sudden. His part in the conversation certainly wasn't all that friendly in the first place, but they were sort of getting along. Maybe something he said hit a nerve or something.

Baz has spent the last six years flirting with Agatha, so sue Simon if he's wondering why, now that she's available, he hasn't tried to make a move. Maybe it really was all just to get on Simon's nerves. That makes him really mad, not for his sake, but Agatha's. Baz shouldn't have used her as a way to get to Simon and left her with false pretenses that he may actually like her and unreciprocated feelings. Simon thinks about starting an argument over it, but it's so quiet and the moment's over. Baz wouldn't answer if Simon tried to initiate another conversation.

The sudden silence of the room is overbearing, and he almost wants to apologize just to get the banter going again. Because now, he's left with the inability to go back to sleep and the never ending thoughts in his head.

It's finally friday, so Simon crashes onto his bed as soon as he gets to room after classes. He doesn't even change out of his uniform or remove his shoes or slip under the sheets. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he's practically a dead person.

He's so low on sleep that he doesn't wake up until the next morning. When he does, theres a blanket pulled up to his shoulders. He buries his face further into the soft material and wonders if Penelope snuck into his room and saw him shivering in his sleep. He briefly remembers someone pushing him to the wall and pulling the blanket out from under him, tugging it up to his chin. Simon may be too skinny for his own good, but he doubts Penelope could carry his weight.

He looks over at Baz's bed, already made. He's probably down at breakfast. Usually Simon's there before him.

He briefly thinks about possibility that Baz was the one to cover him from the cold, but it's so irrational and bizarre that he just starts laughing right there with his face shoved into a pillow. 

 

 

Talking to Baz at night becomes a routine that neither of them addresses in the morning. Sometimes it's barely a four minute exchange of sentences that don't even make sense, other nights they talk for a good thirty minutes until Simon's eyelids begin dropping. Their conversations seem to actually be helping him fall asleep. The fact that just speaking tires him out probably isn't a good thing.

Baz mostly lets him do the talking and says a few (exceptionally rude) words here and there, but occasionally he'll get chatty and tell Simon things he probably wouldn't in the daylight. Not important things, just stories about his sisters and what his favorite foods are. When Simon actually gets him to share the little details though, he feels more accomplished than ever. When he gets him to  _laugh_ , which is  _very, very, very_ rare, it almost seems like he's dreaming. By very rare, he means it's only happened twice. Both times, Simon nearly fell off his bed.

"Come on," Simon pleads. "You shut me down every night."

Baz scoffs, and Simon just knows he's rolling his eyes. He'd even put his money on it. "It's really creepy how invested you are in this."

"You're one to talk about creepy," Simon snorts. "I just want to know when you're planning on stepping up your dating game."

"Why are you so curious?" Baz asks like he's looking for a specific answer.

"I don't know," Simon answers, because he really doesn't. It just seems unbelievable that someone like Baz has never been in a relationship.

Baz gives a  _mhmm_ , though it's obvious it isn't the reply he wanted. "You know some people just aren't into the dating scene."

Simon considers that. "Are you one of those people?"

"No."

"Then why'd you even bring that up?"

"Because I like proving you wrong."

Simon laughs. He used to get riled up when Baz said stuff like that, but he's learning that Baz just thinks it's funny when Simon argues with him. "I mean, I've seen you hit on Agatha," he says, trying as hard as possible not to sound awkward or bitter. "So I know you know how."

"I'd think everyone knows how to flirt," Baz mutters like he does whenever the subject of Simon's ex comes up.

"Have you never met Penny?" Baz breathes through his nose, and Simon beams, taking it as a laugh. "No, really. Maybe you only know how to flirt when you're trying to piss people, me, off. Bad intentions seem to be your thing."

"I know how to flirt in any situation, no matter my intentions," Baz says pointedly.

It occurs to Simon that this could be considered weird to anyone if it were out of context. Two guys who supposedly despise each other staying up and talking about flirting. He doesn't think about that for too long. "I don't think so," Simon says, just to annoy him.

"Oh, like you'd know," Baz says back.

It takes a couple seconds for Simon to wonder about whether or not he should say the thing on his mind. He decides he shouldn't, but because he's a reckless dumbass, he doesn't listen to his own logic. "Flirt with me," he blurts out.

It feels like the silence is mocking him, and Simon doesn't like it. It's his fault, anyway, for not properly thinking things through before he talks, but it's easier to focus his frustration on the quiet of the room.

"What?" Baz asks after a while. Simon winces at the confusion in his voice.

"I just meant," Simon starts, and really doesn't know where he's going with that. He doesn't know what he meant. Why would he start the sentence like that? Why is he like this? Dear Merlin. "That you should, like, you know, show me what you got, and I'll be the judge."

Baz shuffles in his bed. "I'm not gonna flirt with you."

"Why not?"

"You want me..." Baz says slowly, like he doesn't understand what's happening. It's a little shocking as he usually has it together no matter the situation. "To flirt with you?"

Simon thinks he might die of embarrassment right then and there.

The easier option would be to say,  _No, Baz, I don't want you to flirt with me, it just came out by accident_ , and then Baz would say something rude like,  _I bet you were an accident,_ and they'd go back to talking about pointless shit until one of them passes out. "Yeah," Simon says dumbly. "Make me swoon."

"You can't swoon lying down," Baz points out.

"Says who?"

"The laws of physics."

"Fine," Simon gives up. "Can I copy your homework in the morning?"

"No."

And that's that. They go to sleep shortly after.

 

 

The next morning, Simon hurries to breakfast before Baz even wakes up, too embarrassed of yesterday's spectacle to even look at him. Or even have him look at Simon.

At breakfast, he catches Simon's gaze and holds eye contact for so long, lifting a brow when Simon's cheeks and ears start to turn red. He looks so flustered that Penelope frowns and goes, "Did you eat something spicy? Was it ketchup? How many times do I have to tell you your white self can't handle it."

"What would I have ketchup with, Penny?" he rolls his eyes, resting his chin on the table.

She shrugs. "Don't ask me. You manage to put it on everything."

They sit quietly for a second, Simon trying not to look at Baz, Penelope reading a random book, Agatha looking like she's in the middle of a daydream. That is, until he yawns and then he has to spend the rest of breakfast assuring his friends that he's not on the verge of death. Though he might be.

Simon thinks he might be losing it. His brain is close to shutting down. He thought his lack of sleep was just making him physically tired, but someone asked him for a pencil in class, and he gave them his wand. Even worse, when they awkwardly gave it back, he asked them why they were giving him their wand. It's like he's completely checked out.

He climbs in bed as soon as he gets to his room, but all he does is stare up at the ceiling. He's so unbelievably exhausted, but it's like his eyes refuse to stay shut for more than a few seconds. Penelope suggested he see a therapist. She thinks his experiences with the humdrum are the reason he's struggling so much. He's tried to explain to her that he's never had this sort of problem before, and that even when he can't sleep, he doesn't think about the humdrum. It's like his mind's completely shut all those details out. Penelope says that that's an unhealthy coping mechanism, and that it's even more of a reason for him to get therapy. Usually, that's when Simon gets annoyed and ends the conversation. He can't say he's not relieved about this so called coping mechanism. It's not like he needs anything else to keep him awake.

He hasn't had a rundown with the Humdrum since last year, and the Mage hasn't come to talk to him since the school year started. Simon's confused, mostly about how to feel since this has never happened before. He wants to let his guard down, he really does, but he can't risk not being in the correct mindset when the Humdrum and/or the Mage finally appear.

He's so frustrated, and he doesn't know how to let it out. He shoves his pillow against his face, but it does nothing to help. Today, he has even more things than usual to worry about. He tries to not let his mind wander to yesterday's conversation with Baz, but it does anyway. He then moves on to trying not to smash his head against the wall. He wonders why he has the impulse control of a two year old.

When he wakes up, it's 10pm and Baz is just getting into bed. Simon internally groans. Couldn't he stay asleep for one more goddamn hour so he wouldn't have to face last night's mistake? He's not the biggest fan of confrontation.

"Your internal clock is seriously fucked up," Baz decides as he pulls the covers over himself. Simon should be freaked out that Baz can tell he's awake even though he hasn't done or said anything to indicate it. He isn't, though.

Simon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of his bed, stretching and yawning and wishing he wasn't awake. When he's done and rubbing his right eye, he finds Baz still looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He gives a smile to show him that he can see him. Baz scoffs and turns his head the other side.

"Are you going to sleep?" Simon asks. The silence is making him feel weird.

Baz's voice is almost unintelligible. "No, I'm learning how to tap dance."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're hilarious?" Simon asks dryly.

Under the faint light coming from the window, Simon can see Baz starting to smirk. "Actually," he starts, smug, "a little Wellbelove tells me you think I am."

Simon's blood turns ice cold, and then it starts rushing to his face.  _One time._ He said Baz was funny one fucking time. And it was only because Penelope told him he wasn't capable of saying one nice thing about Baz, and it's not everyday that he gets to prove her wrong. He didn't even mean it. The only adjectives he associates with Baz are you  _evil_ and  _snobby_ and  _annoying_.

He makes a mental note to murder Agatha the next time he sees her. He doesn't care that she has a dumb crush on Baz. "I didn't—she's making things up. It was out of context," Simon reasons and tries to ignore how warm his cheeks have become.

Baz raises a brow. The asshole is enjoying this. "She's lying or it was out of context?" Simon's not sure why the thought of Baz and Agatha even speaking bothers him so much. He's seen them conversing after the breakup, but it didn't really make him feel anything until now.

"Fuck you," Simon mumbles, pushing his hair away from his face. He figures this is the perfect timing to bring up the whole meaningless flirting he has going on with Agatha, partly because he needs a way out of this conversation, but mostly because he's worried about Agatha. "Look, you need to stop flirting with her."

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Snow," Baz taunts.

If it weren't for the whole getting kicked out of Watford thing, Simon would throw a punch. "I'm not jealous," he exclaims, "but you and I both know you're not interested, so stop making her believe you are."

Baz pushes himself up so he can glare directly at Simon. Simon glares directly back. "What's it to you?" Baz coos. "Dealing with feelings for an ex who wants nothing to do with you?"

Simon can smell his mint toothpaste all the way from his bed. His cheeks, earlier warm out of fluster, are on fire with rage. "She's my friend," Simon snaps. "Why do you have to be such a dick? I thought we were getting along."

They stare at each other for Merlin knows how long until Baz's expression becomes more fixed and hostile. "You thought wrong," he says, and Simon almost doesn't recognize the tone. He realizes it's because Baz hasn't used it with him ever since they started having casual conversations instead of angry ones.

 _I guess that's over_ , Simon thinks, dispirited.

 

 

It's been a week since Simon and Baz went to bed angry at each other. Seven days since they last talked. Simon is very unhinged by it all. It feels more dramatic than an argument between established enemies should.

See, this is everything he's ever wanted, but now all it does is frustrate him. Baz hasn't said a word to him, not a single one. Not even an insult. And when Simon stands right in front of him, Baz just stares through him like he's not even there. He's really good at the silent treatment thing, and Simon refuses to be the one to break because he really did mean everything he said, but it's killing him.

He doesn't understand why things became the way they are. It's not like Baz was oblivious to his thoughts on the Agatha situation. He's brought it up multiple times before, but this time seemed to really do the trick. It wasn't just Simon that Baz wasn't speaking to. In fact, Simon hasn't seen him speak to or even look at Agatha in the past seven days.

Agatha's pretending like she hasn't noticed, like she doesn't care, but Simon can see her staring at him whenever he's in the room. He's only aware of this because he's staring too.

Simon has so much pent up aggression and anger, he feels the need to bump into any and every doorframe. It relieves some of the irritation and the knots in his shoulder, but it also replaces them with bruises. His shoulders have literally turned blue and purple and yellow. It's not a pretty sight. Why, exactly, he's lashing out this much over a guy he doesn't even like not speaking to him? No idea.

On top of all that, he's gone back to not sleeping at all. He either spends the night thinking about Baz or staring at Baz or both at the same time. It's creepy, like, a whole new level of creepy, but Simon can't help it. He tries not to, really, but he zones out and next thing he knows he's on his side and wondering how to make things okay between the two of them. Things were bad before, it's not like he had a set sleeping schedule before this, but now he's lucky if he gets thirty minutes of rest every few days. It's like he can fall asleep anywhere any time except his bed at night.

Then, Christmas break comes around, and Baz starts packing, and Simon starts spiraling further. He can't go to Agatha's, and Penelope's mum can't handle him for longer than a few hours at a time, and so he has to spend the holidays in Watford alone. He tries to see the upside of it all, all the hours of sleep he can catch up on, but it does nothing to make the thought of an empty castle less lonely.

He's watching Baz shove stuff into a suitcase right now. Every time he adds another thing, Simon feels like he's being stabbed in the chest. Finally, he can't take it anymore. "You're going to study on Christmas?" Simon asks, eyeing the books Baz is packing.

Baz's moves don't falter and he doesn't even look back at Simon. "Yes."

Simon rolls his eyes at the one word response. He's annoyed, but it doesn't mean he'll stop trying. Baz leaving without a word to Simon just seems wrong. "Do you mind bringing me back some dessert?"

"I do mind."

"Please?"

Baz shakes his head with a humorless laugh that sounds a lot like a snicker. "Is food all you think about?"

Simon taps his fingers on the wood of the chair he's sitting backwards on. "It's not  _all_ I think about. You leave tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Stop giving me stupid answers."

"Stop asking me stupid questions."

Simon reaches forward, so much that his chair almost falls over. He could possibly fall and slam his face on the floor, but that's a risk he's willing to take. He grips the bottom of Baz's school jacket and pulls, so Baz turns around and has to look at him. The expression he gets isn't very positive, but he'll take any face to face interaction with Baz he can get.

But then he feels stupid because he doesn't know what to say. He's staring up at him with no words like a fool. And Baz just stands there and looks down at him expectantly, which, okay, makes sense because Simon just violated his personal space and pulled at his damn clothes and so obviously, he has to have something to say. But he just sits there like the dumbass he is.

"Uh..." Simon stammers. He's trying to think of something to say, he really is, but it's sort of difficult when Baz is looking at him like that. He swallows and says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a very stupid thing to do. "Please bring me back dessert."

Baz stays still for a few more seconds, not breaking eye contact. Then he says, "I'll consider it," and turns back around to finish packing. He doesn't know why, but Simon considers it a win. When they go to bed, Simon doesn't try to strike up a conversation, but he doesn't try to sleep either.

 

 

Simon spends the break wandering around the grounds and catching up on sleep and raiding the kitchens. He spends the day stuffing his face and watching Netflix on his laptop and  _attempts_ to spend the night sleeping. It's...well, it's easier said than done.

He thought Christmas break would finally give him some time to himself, but strangely enough, he spends almost all of it feeling lonely. Even stranger, wishing that a certain vampire could curb his appetite for late night talks. It's manageable during the day when he can distract himself with scones and Brooklyn Nine-Nine and hours of facetiming Penny, but when he finally gets himself to turn the lights off and get under the covers, all he can do is  _think._

He thinks about Agatha and her parents and if they mention him during dinner. He thinks about the Doctor Who marathon she might be having alone. He thinks about the Mage and whether or not he'd wish Simon a merry Christmas. He thinks about Penelope's siblings and wonders if he should send them cards. He thinks about the Humdrum and then he doesn't. He thinks about how different things are from last Christmas when he thought his world began and ended with Agatha and that he absolutely despised his roommate.

He thinks about things that he shouldn't be thinking about. He thinks about Baz. A lot. He thinks about what he's doing, whether he's practicing violin or bickering with his sisters or scrounging the library like the nerd he is. He thinks about what he's eating and what he's wearing and what he's thinking about (Simon? Surely not) and what he's doing before bed instead of letting his annoying roommate bother him.

Right now, Simon is eating cold pizza on his bed. It was hot when he got it, but he forgot it was there, and he's too lazy to go to the kitchen to microwave it, and too hesitant to spell it hot, and really, he doesn't mind. The student and faculty are supposed to return in a couple days, and Simon's nerves are everywhere. He doesn't understand why, but he cannot sit still for the life of him. Some episode of some sitcom is playing on his laptop, but he's not paying attention as he stares at Baz's sheets.

First, he wonders if Baz would kill him if Simon sat on his bed, and then he wonders what that even matters, why he wants to do that in the first place. He decides  _yes_ for the first question and  _what fucking ever_ for the second as he abandons his warm, messed up sheets and settles for Baz's cold ones. Hes uncomfortable when he realizes they smell like him, even after almost two weeks of him being away, and he grows even more uneasy when the smell feels so familiar and sweet that his eyes begin to shut. Christmas break doesn't end for another couple days, and Simon can most definitely wash the sheets and rearrange them in the hopes that Baz never finds out about this. In the hopes that Simon never has to think about this again.

When he wakes up, he's shocked that the sun has already set and that he slept long enough for his stomach to growl. He buries his face back in the pillow for a minute more to see if he can stock up on a couple more hours of sleep, but when his mind refuses to rest again, he sighs and pulls on his shoes.

Half an hour later, he's sitting on the kitchen floors and eating spoonfuls of leftover mashed potatoes. He thinks, for only a quarter of a second, about how...sad this is. In another life, he could've been just like any of the other students, spending his days complaining about homework and counting down the days until break when he'd finally go home to loving parents, possibly even siblings. He shivers then, and not even because of the stone cold floor he's sitting on. He shivers thinking about how a mother's love would feel, about her hugs and forehead kisses and genuine, unconditional love.

He stops himself before it gets too much for him to handle. Normally, he'd never let himself dwell on what could've been or, really, anything, but the quiet of the castle and the holidays is playing games with his head.

 _If you can't change it_ , he ultimately thinks to himself,  _if you can't do anything about it, lock it out of your thoughts._ And really, that's that.

His not-thinking is interrupted when metal hits the ground near the kitchen doors, and he's on his feet with his sword in his hands in a matter of seconds. His grip on the handle only tightens when he hears a soft, "Fuck."

Simon almost distrusts his ears, but his eyes couldn't possibly be fooling him when an annoyed, six foot one tall vampire appears from behind one of the racks. "Jesus fucking Christ, Snow," Baz eyes the sword pointed in his direction with great caution, like Simon's gonna stab him. He might, really. "Put that away before you hurt someone, most probably yourself."

Simon does, not easily, and continues staring, which gets him an eye roll. Baz's nose and cheeks are a color that can almost be described as pink. Simon knows it's because of the cold (he himself could see his breath every time he exhaled on his way to the castle), but it's so endearing that his own cheeks begin to heat up.

For a while, they just stand there quietly, and then Simon fucks it up as usual.

His legs move without his consent and before he knows it, he's standing right in front of Baz and his right hand is reaching up and suddenly, it's on the back of Baz's neck and pulling him down. In the back of his mind, he expects Baz to pull out his wand and spell Simon into a fucking frog or something, but he doesn't. Instead, he looks at Simon with something close to  _longing_ and his eyes give a quick glance at Simon's lips before they close.

That's all it takes for Simon to reach up and kiss him so hard he's sure it'll bruise. Baz doesn't disappoint, pushing back against Simon like he does when they're in the middle of a fight.

Simon can't think about anything other than this. He tries to think about something else, just to see if he could, but his mind is clouded with Baz's lips and a variety of different things that Simon never thought he wanted from Baz, but is currently dying to do. Simon's hand moves up Baz's neck, and he runs his fingers through the roots of his hair, eliciting a shiver from Baz, and for some reason, it only motivates Simon.

For half a second, he thinks about his fangs and whether they'll come out, then he decides he's spent enough time treating Baz like a villain when he's only a boy who was pulled into something he didn't ask to be a part of. Not unlike Simon, really. It's been a good minute, and things don't seem to be spiraling out of hand and Simon isn't Turned yet, so he decides to enjoy the softness of Baz's lips with a clear mind.

When they break away, Simon only allows it to last for a handful of seconds before he press their lips back together. Baz doesn't seem to mind. The longer Simon kisses Baz, the longer he doesn't need to think about the fact that he likes kissing Baz, and, well, the longer he gets to kiss Baz.

His plan to kiss Baz forever doesn't really hold up for long, not that he expected it to. Baz seems almost as unhinged as Simon, which is reassuring, but he's collected enough to raise a brow and say, "I thought I made my bed before I left."

Simon's face falls. "You went to our room?"

"Figured you'd be here when you weren't there."

Simon shrugs and gives the first excuse he can think of, but he's not sure how believable it is accompanied with the guilty smile playing at his lips. "There were pizza crumbs on my bed."

The slight tilt of the left corner of Baz's lips are a clear indication of his disbelief. "I'm sure there were."

Simon kisses him again in the hopes that he'll forget about it, and it's shocking that Baz immediately shuts his eyes and lets his head fall forward. It's even more shocking that the second time around is even better than the first. Simon's hands have exhausted Baz's hair, but it still somehow looks less disheveled than Simon's, which Simon doesn't know if he loves or hates. Baz kisses Simon's upper lip, and then the corner of his lips, and then the space between his jaw and his lips. It's so soft and affectionate that it turns Simon's already unsettled stomach upside down. He almost forgets the two of them were trying to kill each other not even four months ago. It makes him wonder if this is hopeless, and the thought alone feels like a heavy weight on his heart.

Then Baz says, almost uncertainly, "I brought cake," and Simon's certain there's nothing tainted about any of this.


End file.
